One Year Later

It feels as though the post on my one-year anniversary of blogging ought to be profound. I started off trying to write something like that, but it’s not working and will be relegated to another post, another day.

New Year’s Day usually feels quiet to me. A calm before the bustle of January, when the it’s-the-holidays excuses for being lazy or skipping out early no longer work. That’s what January 1, 2011 felt like to me.

I have a vivid mental picture of that day, which I don’t have for most New Year’s Days (tending, as they do, to all blur together). I had spent New Year’s Eve 2010 in the usual fashion—with Chinese food followed by blissful nothingness—with one critical difference. That last night of 2010 I sat on the floor of our living room, in front of the fire, and set up a blog in WordPress.

It was totally unplanned. I had been thinking about writing about my experience with motherhood, but I hadn’t really thought about it being so specifically about PPD and I really hadn’t thought about getting into blogging. And yet there I was with wordpress.com on the screen in front of me and before I knew it this blog was born.

It was a short time later that I became Farewell Stranger, but at that time I was simply MamaRobinJ. I had a basic blog and a Twitter account (because I didn’t want to use my professional Twitter persona for this very personal project) and I decided I was going to do it. And then I went to bed.

The next day, during the quietness that was January 1, 2011, I got a direct message on my other Twitter account from my boss. “MamaRobinJ is a great idea,” he said. And my heart exploded in holy-shit-fuelled adrenaline.

That was the start of what became a slow progression towards having it be okay to talk about this. I would say a year later I’m 95% there – it’s still not something I bring up early on when I meet new people, and the people at my new job don’t know this about me yet (unless they’ve Googled me, in which case hi!). But it’s no longer an oh-God-please-don’t-find-my-blog sort of thing.

For I guess that’s the beauty of blogging, isn’t it? It can be whatever we want. If we want to be anonymous, we can. If we want to use it to say, “This is who I really am. This is my experience. Do you still love me?” we can.

One year later, this is who I really am. And not because I hid who I was, but because this blog, and those of you who have been with me during the last year, have allowed the protective shell I placed around myself to crack and let the light in.

One year later, this is who I really am. Because you still love me.

colorful-cupcakes

Image credit: ms.Tea on Flickr

So today, on this New Year’s Day that feels not quiet but alive with possibility, I wish to say thank you. Thank you for this last year. Thank you for loving me.

Have a cupcake.

 

The Honesty-Dignity Equation

If you were around here in the summer you may remember that I put myself out there on video and managed to land an opportunity to speak at a Bloggy Boot Camp in Dallas in September 2012. Well today I’m not here – not because we’re moving in to our new house (woo hoo!) but because I’m over visiting my SITStas. (Is that a word? It is now.)

I’m guest posting on SITS today about how to blog honestly without losing your dignity. (What? I only posted about my underwear once.)

Everyone has a line. Even me. I know where my line is and what I’m not willing (or able) to post about, but I might be willing to post more personal stuff than a lot of people. Doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter where your line is, I just think sometimes it’s a good idea to push it a little bit. And doing so is less scary than you might think.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the last 11 months it’s that, no matter what the struggle, we’re never as alone as we think we are.

What do you think – are you ready to step into the light?

Come and read my guest post and let me know what you think.

bridge sunrise

***

If you’re here from SITS (hi & welcome!) and you’re looking for the juicy stuff, here’s where you’ll find some of it:

Read “Loud” if you’ve ever yelled at your baby.

Ditto if you’ve ever wanted to throw your baby out the window.

On being a “bad” mom.

A post about how I got onto anti-depressants.

My scariest moment.

Not a good day.

The first of a two-part post about rage (which was also linked from the post on SITS).

Or maybe it’s easier to get it all in one video of my TEDx talk.

And if you’re looking for tips on getting freelance writing gigs, come back later in the week. I’m going to post some freelance tips for newbies based on my recent experience.

How to Blog

For Charity

When someone struggles, I help. When someone celebrates, I join in. But sometimes it’s a little bit of both, with hard stuff and happy stuff all intertwined, and I’m up for that too.

This is for Charity.

 

Dear Charity,

I know today you’re thinking back to a year ago when you admitted you needed help and went somewhere you could get it. I know it’s a hard day to think of. But it wasn’t just a hard day – it was the start of something.

Today you don’t have to worry about whether a year from now you will wish you had started today, because you’ve already begun. And you’ve come a long way, baby. Even if you still struggle, you are making progress and you’re where you need to be.

So don’t worry about this day a year ago, or this day a year from now. Focus on today.

You are where you need to be.

xo

Beauty in the Breakdown: TEDx – The Video

Early this morning I got an email from the organizers of the TEDx event I spoke at. “Your talk is up on the TED website,” they said nonchalantly, as though that one short sentence hadn’t just caused my heart to skip a beat.

Before I had even watched it, my husband had posted it on Facebook. I did sort of want someone to watch it and tell me what it was like, but that wasn’t quite what I had in mind…

“Did you watch it?! Is it awful?” I asked him.

“I saw it live. It was great,” he replied.

Husbands are so not helpful.

I was nervous. This is me crying on stage in front of strangers and it was posted on the TED website. I started to watch it, panicked, and stopped. I boiled the kettle and considered pressing play again while I was waiting, but wasn’t quite ready. Finally, with tea and toast in hand, I sat down to watch it.

I’m not sure how I expected to feel about it. Proud, I think, which is how I felt after the event. But I have to be honest: other things are outweighing the pride right now. I know I’ve written about all the things I spoke about  – the tears, the rage, and the accusations – but for some reason having this video out there is…different.

But I’m going to share it with you anyway.

It is what it is and this is my story.

(If you don’t want to watch the whole thing, the juicy part starts at the 4-minute mark.)

And speaking of being enough… Did you see my piece on Band Back Together about the origins of Just.Be.Enough?

And next week I’ll be at Just.Be.Enough. on Monday hosting the Be Enough Me link-up. Join us!

Write, post, link-up, share your story and your voice.
Be part of carrying the weight of confidence and share our mission
to empower, inspire, and remind 
women, parents and children
that the time has come to celebrate ourselves!

Next week’s prompt: Five Things That Make You Smile

(Remember you can also write on a topic of your choice.)

 

Blue

With some distance, I wonder what Connor will think of all this when he’s older.

Will he understand my struggle?

Will he think it was about him?

Will he be embarrassed that I put this much of it out there?

I don’t think he will.

In fact I’m willing to bet he won’t.

You see, we know it’s okay now.

One day, long after her streaks have faded, he will come across a picture of his Grandma – my mom – with blue hair.

He will see a newspaper article with a picture of her – blue hair and all – sitting between his dad and I.

And he will know what that brilliant shock of blue means: It’s okay to ask for help.

And if he asks I’ll give him nothing but love.

Just like my mother did for me.

With thanks to Paul and the staff at Chamberlain Walk hair salon for supporting my mom’s fundraising for mental health and suicide prevention. 

If you’d like to make a contribution you can do that here. If my mom raises $4000 she’ll dye her whole head blue (and I really, really want to see that).

Music in the video is “Blue” by July for Kings. Lovely, isn’t it?